


Stuart in the Land of the Daleks

by sloganeer



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-26
Updated: 2003-05-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 00:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloganeer/pseuds/sloganeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'll never escape Stuart. That's not necessarily a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuart in the Land of the Daleks

Stuart knows exactly where to find him. Vince has never been able to hide, not from his mum, not from Stuart. He managed to lose Alexander at Babylon one night for all of thirty minutes before a search team was organised and Vince's blowjob was interrupted.

"Well, how was I supposed to know," Alex had said, not at all sheepish. "You never cop off."

Stuart wasn't a part of that search team. He watched the crowd from the balcony above, calm, like he knew where Vince the whole time.

That was years ago and Vince likes to think that things have changed. Vince is in the balcony now, Stuart below, his voice drowning out Dr. Who on the screen.

"Vince! Where the fuck are ya?"

Vince pushes out of his front row seat and leans over the balcony edge. There's Stuart, stalking through the aisles, glaring at anyone who shushes him. Vince doesn't need to see Stuart's face to know the glare is there, but he can.

"Bloody hell, Stuart."

He throws his head back and grins up at Vince, baring his teeth.

"I'm coming up, you twat."

Stuart disappears under the balcony and Vince falls back into his seat. He glances up at the screen, but he can't pay attention. He's seen this episode more times than even Stuart would guess, but now he's lost.

There's a noise from behind - Stuart cursing, and another shush from the crowd. Vince turns his head to say something when Stuart flops into the seat next to him.

"This one again, Vince?" he says, gesturing to the screen. "You don't even like Patrick Troughton."

Stuart leans forward to grab Vince's soda off the ledge and takes a long drink.

"Stuart." He turns his eyes to Vince, lips still wrapped around the straw. "I thought we were fighting."

"Were we? Huh."

Stuart puts the cup - now empty - back on the ledge. Sitting back, his arm falls, nothing like subtle, around Vince's shoulders, his lips on Vince's neck.

"I guess we're made up then," he mumbles and follows with a kiss.


End file.
